by Ruth Fox
“What was it?” Zach asked.
Monster-boy shrugged and looked down again. Obviously he didn’t want to talk about it.
Zach stood up and pointed at the bunk.
“I want the top bunk,” he said.
“Why?” asked the monster-boy.
Zach faltered. That was a good question. It was exactly what he would have asked, if he was in Monster-boy’s position.
“Well, because, I was here first.”
The monster-boy’s yellow eyes shone. “It’s kind of like a fort up there, isn’t it?”
“What?” Zach said, taken aback. “I mean, yeah, kind of.” His mind was already racing. That’s exactly why he’d wanted the top bunk—he could totally destroy all his enemies from up there with grenades or a sniper rifle . . .
The monster-boy nodded.
“Okay,” he said.
Zach blinked. That was way easier than he thought it would be.
At that moment there was a shout from downstairs. “ZACH!”
Zach cringed. It seemed his mum had just discovered the sheets draped over the plum tree.
Chapter Six
Zach was in a lot of trouble. Mr. Morgenstern took him into his study and, moving his glasses, rubbed his hands over his eyes.
“Zach,” he said. “Can you explain yourself?”
Zach lowered his head. “Not really.”
“Is there anything you want to talk to us about?” Mr. Morgenstern said. “I know this is an adjustment, but you know you can always talk to us.”
Zach shook his head.
Zach’s punishment would be thought about long and hard, Mr. Morgenstern assured him. But Zach wasn’t even sure punishment was necessary. He felt pretty rotten about doing it, and he was definitely sorry he’d upset his mum and dad. He tried to stay angry, tried to get back to the place where his resentment simmered and seethed, but it was fading fast.
The lingering ill-feeling made dinner that night more awkward than it would have been otherwise. Zach and his parents usually cooked dinner together—with Zach solely in charge of dessert. Usually, all three of them would be arguing, ducking around one another, spilling things and offering tastings.
But tonight Mrs. Morgenstern pulled out a box of Jagermeyer’s Instant Mushroom Couscous, and she boiled it quickly in a pot while Mr. Morgenstern sliced some tomatoes. Zach tried to make an effort to be cheerful and helpful. He’d decided to make some blueberry crumble, hoping this would make up for his earlier behaviour.
The Morgensterns sat down at the kitchen table, as they always did when they weren’t eating in front of the TV, but it still felt uncomfortable. Monster-boy was polite, but though he answered questions, he didn’t ask any in return. He ate his food and accepted seconds when they were offered. He was just like a perfect guest.
Zach got up to get the blueberry crumble, hoping that would help. Blueberries stained your tongue, and no one could be serious with a blue tongue. But as he was spooning out Monster-boy’s portion, he had an idea. It was a nasty, horrible idea, but it made him smile. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then picked up the garlic powder and sprinkled a generous serving into the bowl.
He watched Monster-boy closely as he ate.
Morton ate very carefully. He savoured the food in his mouth. He chewed every morsel. He swallowed it with a gulp. He delicately picked up the next spoonful.
Before Zach knew it, he’d eaten the whole bowl without complaint.
Zach was amazed. That much garlic powder would have made anyone gag. But Monster-boy didn’t even seem to notice. Maybe they didn’t have blueberry crumble in South Silvershine. Maybe he didn’t even know what it was supposed to taste like, and was too polite to say it was horrible.
Or maybe—maybe Monster-boy knew what Zach had done, and was eating it all—every last scraping—just to prove to Zach that he couldn’t be fazed.
Things didn’t get much better when dinner was over.
After a few hours of TV, they went to brush their teeth—Monster-boy had a new toothbrush, while Zach’s was all bent out of shape, and he brushed his pointed teeth for a full five minutes without being told, unlike Zach, who usually just shoved some toothpaste in his mouth, poked it with his brush, then rinsed. When Zach crawled into his top bunk that night, his new mattress was stiff and cold. He couldn’t get comfortable. And there was the sound of Monster-boy breathing and moving around in his bunk below, which had been made up with fresh sheets while the ones Zach had thrown in the garden were laundered.
“I hope you don’t snore,” Zach said loudly.
“My roommate at the orphanage snored,” said Monster-boy. “I’ll try not to. It was annoying.”
This answer was so reasonable it was exasperating. Zach huffed a sigh and turned over and tried to imagine how he would blow the invading soldiers’ heads off with a bazooka from atop his fort. And even though the monster-boy didn’t snore, Zach still didn’t sleep that night.
❖ ❖ ❖
In the morning, Mrs. Morgenstern took Zach and Morton on the bus to the Pyramid Mall. The mall was named for its shape, which was four-sided, just like a pyramid—and inside, just like a real pyramid, there were countless treasures for any determined shopper to uncover.
“We’ll get you a school uniform,” said Mrs. Morgenstern. “You’ll need shoes for PhysEd, and something to wear around home. What sort of clothes do you like?”
Monster-boy smiled politely. “I like my t-shirt,” he said.
“Well,” said Mrs. Morgenstern. She wasn’t a fan of modern rock music, and the grungy look of the Looks Like Vanessa logo grated on her. “You need a change of clothes. You can’t just wear the same thing all the time.”
Monster-boy followed her obediently through the Uniform Boutique, Sportsman’s Shoestop, and Infinity Designs. He dutifully nodded to everything Mrs. Morgenstern pointed out. Zach gave noncommittal replies to all of his mum’s questions until they came to the counter, where he picked up a pair of dark sunglasses.
“These would suit Morton,” he said.
They were nice sunglasses. Zach would have liked a pair himself, but his chief reason in pointing them out was that, wearing sunglasses, Monster-boy’s creepy yellow eyes wouldn’t be so visible. Mrs. Morgenstern added them to the pile.
They walked back to the house along Main Street instead of catching the bus, since Mrs. Morgenstern had decided they would have steak for dinner, and wanted to stop off at the butcher’s shop. Zach trailed behind. With the sunnies on, and a new hat, Monster-boy looked almost normal, as long as you didn’t peer too closely at his skin—or at the yellow permit card clipped to his t-shirt.
Inside the butcher’s, Zach glared at Mr. Majewski. He had neither forgotten nor forgiven the man for helping Zach make an idiot out of himself on the day of the Opening Ceremony.
“Mrs. Morgenstern,” Majewski grunted as they entered. He was wearing a blood-spattered apron and wielding a large cleaver; he looked thunderous at the best of times, but when he saw Monster-boy, his creeping brows dipped so low they almost joined with his moustache. Monster-boy had taken off his sunnies so he could see after the bright sunshine outside.
“What’s this?”
Mrs. Morgenstern smiled tightly. “This is my adopted son, Mr. Majewski. Morton.”
“I don’t ask what you name your new pet,” Majewski spat. “You call him whatever you please. I call him leaving my store this instant!”
He slashed the cleaver through the air, the blade making a schick sound.
“There’s hardly the need—” said Mrs. Morgenstern.
“Oh, I hear about your little ‘adopt-a-monster’ project. I tell you it won’t work. They can’t live among us. They not human, Mrs. Morgenstern. That’s why they build Wall in first place.”<
br />
“That’s very uncalled for.” Mrs. Morgenstern’s lips were pressed into a thin line as she struggled to contain her anger.
Mr. Majewski looked very red in the cheeks. “I decide who I sell meat to. I not selling to you if you feeding that thing at your table.”
“Then that’s just as well, since I won’t be buying it from you any longer!” Mrs. Morgenstern shouted. She whirled on her heel, shoved Zach and Morton out the door, and made sure it slammed so hard that the glass rattled.
Zach had never seen his mum this angry. She marched them up the street and didn’t stop to breathe until they were standing in the lounge room of their house, where Mr. Morgenstern looked up from his newspaper with a frown.
“You wouldn’t believe . . . I don’t know—gosh, if I could just . . .” she spluttered in explanation.
“Boys,” said Mr. Morgenstern. “Perhaps you’d go upstairs for a few minutes.”
They did, but even with the door shut, Zach could hear their voices.
“. . . knew this would be difficult . . .”
“—blatant obtuseness—”
“. . . just have to take it one step at a time . . .”
“—use that cleaver on his fat red nose!—”
Zach looked at Morton, who had taken a seat on the desk chair, and was looking down at his shoes. He still had his sunnies on, so Zach couldn’t even see his eyes.
“Don’t you care?” Zach said. “Doesn’t it bother you, what people are saying? About you? About my parents? About—” he’d been ready to say about me, but he didn’t want to make this about him. He just wanted Monster-boy to feel really guilty that he was ruining everyone’s lives.
Monster-boy kicked off his shoes and drew his knees up to his chest. Behind those dark glasses, Zach couldn’t even tell if he was listening to him.
“Take those stupid things off!” He lunged at him, grabbing the sunnies and chucking them aside. Monster-boy curled up, then, just kind of folded in on himself, so Zach didn’t get much more than a glimpse of those yellow eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or if they were shinier than usual.
Chapter Seven
The next morning was Monster-boy’s first day of school, and the only one less excited than Zach was Monster-boy himself, whom Zach had decided wasn’t capable of showing any emotion except for indifference.
Zach usually walked or caught the bus, but Mr. Morgenstern insisted on driving them for this first day.
“Now, Morton, make sure you keep your permit on you at all times,” said Mr. Morgenstern. “And if you have any problems, just ask the secretary to let you use the school phone. I’ve got my phone in my pocket, okay?”
When the Putterwagon pulled up in front of the school, he spoke in a low voice to Zach. “I’m counting on you to take care of your brother—and so is he.”
Zach glanced at Monster-boy, who was politely pretending he hadn’t heard. “I told you I would,” he said.
“Well, have a good day, okay, boys?” Mr. Morgenstern said with forced cheerfulness.
“Come on,” Zach said to Monster-boy, and led the way (rather more briskly than he ever entered school on a normal day) up the front steps and through the door. “You’ll have to go to the office first.”
Monster-boy trailed after him obediently, and Zach was planning to dump him with the secretary and run to find Ryder, but the Principal, Mr. Rivers, was behind the desk.
“Zach! Perhaps you’d be able to help us here. We’re having trouble processing Morton’s enrolment. He doesn’t have any school records, does he?”
Mr. Rivers looked uncomfortably at Monster-boy, who looked even more monstrous than he had the day before, since the school uniform code meant he couldn’t wear his hat and sunnies.
Zach shrugged. “I dunno, sir. You could ask him.”
Mr. Rivers looked as if this thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Um, yes, well,” he cleared his throat, then slid his gaze carefully to Monster-boy. “Morton? What was your previous surname?”
“Didn’t have one, sir,” mumbled Monster-boy.
“What do you mean?” Mr. Rivers looked puzzled. “You did have a family on the Other Side, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Morton obviously didn’t intend to volunteer any more information than this.
“A mother? Father?” Mr. Rivers prompted. “Brothers and sisters?”
“My mum. And my grandfather, Bertram. But he died, and I didn’t know his last name.”
“Did you go to school?” Mr. Rivers continued desperately.
“Yes,” he said. “But only until I was nine.”
“Only—until—” Mr. Rivers spluttered. “Then what happened?”
“I worked, sir.”
Zach stared at Monster-boy. This was new information. He realised, very suddenly, that he actually didn’t know anything about Monster-boy’s life before he’d come to live with them. And it was his own fault. He hadn’t asked.
It looked as if Monster-boy was longing to curl up in a corner and do his disappearing act.
“You can call my dad,” said Zach firmly. “He’ll help you.”
“Right,” said Mr. Rivers, still recovering from the shock of learning that nine-year-old monsters were able to quit school. “Right. Well, Morton, this is your locker number and combination. And this is your timetable—Zach can show you the rooms. You’re in the same class.” He looked pleased with this, as if he’d done them both a massive favour. Zach scowled—Year 7’s took all their classes with their homeroom group. They didn’t get any electives until next year. Now he’d never be rid of Monster-boy.
They found Ryder at the lockers.
“Hey!” he called. “Oh, hey, Morton! Great to meet you, buddy!” Ryder was always able to turn on an insanely enthusiastic grin, and he did it right now, raising his hand.
Monster-boy stared at Ryder, then at his hand, which hovered in the air like the North Silvershine Council flag outside the City Hall on a windy day.
“High-five, buddy,” he said, frowning. “You do—you have high-fives on the Other Side, right?”
Monster-boy raised his own clawed hand, returning the gesture awkwardly.
Ryder cracked up laughing, then slapped his palm heartily. “Man! You’re going to be a crack-up.”
“Is that—good?” asked Morton warily.
“It’s good,” said Ryder, slinging an arm around the monster-boy’s shoulders and giving Zach an incredulous look over his shoulder.
❖ ❖ ❖
Before Morton walked into the classroom, everyone had been talking about Bella Campbell.
Bella was a girl from Lower East Primary School, and she had gone missing. Her parents had raised the alarm when their daughter didn’t come home that Friday night. She was supposed to meet her friend, Maryanne, at the corner of Punt Street and Cobden Street, but she hadn’t arrived. The police had investigated, but so far, no one had any idea where she was.
At that moment, everyone’s attention shifted away from her, because Monster-boy had just stepped through the door. It was as if a tidal wave washed through the room, dousing everyone and leaving behind shocked expressions.
“Wow,” said Jason Taybourne. “A real live monster!”
Morton clutched his books to his chest.
Zach tried to slink past to his seat at the back of the room, but there was no escaping.
“Is he really your brother?”
“How can you be sure his permit isn’t fake?”
“Is he allowed to go to one of our schools?”
“Are those horns real?”
They crowded in close, trying to get a good look, and Zach wished he could die of embarrassment.
The barrage of questions only stopped when the teacher, Mrs. Appleby, arrived an
d told Hayley to go back to her own classroom and everyone else to settle down—then promptly undid her good work by saying, “We’ve got a new student joining us in class 7A. Morton, why don’t you tell us a few things about yourself?”
Monster-boy had taken a seat near the window—the only free chair, which happened to be next to Aashna Adarni. She shuffled her books over, and shifted her own chair as close to the aisle as she could get.
“Um, I’m not sure there’s much to tell,” said Monster-boy in that quiet voice.
“Don’t be silly. We encourage self-expression at Middleview Hills Academy. You’ll need to get used to speaking aloud, Morton. This is a Social Studies class, where we study all aspects of our society—and others. No one in North Silvershine, or in the outside world, knows much about the monsters. Can anyone tell me why this is?”
Lex raised her hand. “The Mayor enacted the Edict so that no one travelling outside Silvershine mentions the monsters. He wanted to make sure that Silvershine Island wasn’t overrun by tourists or scientists, because we’d lose our independence from the outside world if that happens.”
“Very good, Lex,” Mrs. Appleby said. “Now, we all know that it’s possible that one day the Edict will be removed. We covered this just last week. Who can remind the class why this might be?” She cast her eye over the students, then sighed. “Someone other than Lex?”
Fiona answered. “The last of the silver fortunes are running out, which could impact our economy. Silvershine might one day have to reveal itself and become part of the outside world once more.”
Mrs. Appleby nodded. “We might be the first to learn about this new society, Morton; here, in this classroom. So why don’t you tell us about where you used to live?”
“It wasn’t very nice,” Morton said. He wasn’t looking at his shoes, but that was probably only because there was a table in the way. Instead he looked straight ahead, his gaze not quite meeting Mrs. Appleby’s eyes, but hovering somewhere over her head. “I didn’t like it much.”
